


Death's Robes

by Wasteland_Wonder



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But Mostly Smut, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Nightmares, Queening, Sharing Clothes, Some Fluff, Some angst, Sub! Reaper, dom! Mercy, mercykill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wasteland_Wonder/pseuds/Wasteland_Wonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaper has a nightmare; Mercy helps him face it. It doesn't end up how either expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death's Robes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by glowgaming's wonderful Mercykill headcanons on Tumblr!
> 
> http://www.glowgaming.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you!!

It started off normally enough: lounging in a room he'd never set his dark eyes on before. Fairly nondescript, a simple couch and a wide mirror are all that punctuated the bright space. And her. Her hips swiveled naturally from the breadth of them as she sauntered towards Reaper, a Mona Lisa smile only smally curving those coral lips. The cushion dipped with her weight and Mercy turned her head momentarily to him, then nodded in the direction of the grand mirror directly in front of them. Their gazes met in the mirror - he was Reyes. Shocked, a blunt-fingered hand rose to stroke his own walnut-hued cheek, Mercy's rose to cover it as she leaned her side into his, glowing Valkyrie wings shifting to accommodate. In her smile Gabriel read: "Don't we look good together? Aren't we good together?"

"Gabriel..." With a flutter of her dainty ankles she was up, taking a handful of steps forward before Mercy rotated smoothly, a flourish of the clunky wings momentarily obscured her. Then it went to hell. Two pitch guns, too obscenely large for such tiny, gloved hands were pointed at him. His guns. A taunting giggle coming from behind the deathly mask made the shadowy hood and trench coat shake. Reyes' own dying screams and the repeated booming of the shotguns were drowned out by Mercy's warped voice shrieking: "Die! Die! DIE!"

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Reaper could sweat, he would have awoken in one. Immediately he rose and searched this week's rental: a modern flat decorated all in white, black and crimson. He found her on the balcony, a fat novel clasped in one hand while the other smoothly lifted a porcelain cup of black lavender tea to her lips - the warm liquid nearly matching her pale tresses with the amount of sugar and milk she assuredly had dumped into it. A broad palm encircled one taut shoulder as his greeting, and his sturdy fingers rubbed soothing circles into her, earning the reward of a benign smile.

"I want to try something," Reaper's abrupt statement made Angela's neatly-groomed brows quirk together. As he explained, his ashen hand tugged the black hoodie he wore tighter about his horrendously marred face, the beams of sun irking him. The confusion only grew on his angel's sweet face, but in the end she agreed to it. Reaper was a man who faced his fears.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm - ah, almost ready!" Angela's accented voice called from the bathroom, followed by a now muffled, "Verdammt!" A smug smirk tugged at his chapped and scarred lips. His smirk was soon wiped away. Boots thudded heavily to stand his paramour at the edge of the bed, the heavy cloth dragging noisily against the ground with her approach - too long for Angela's slighter form. Reaper took in the image, all his muscles constricting tightly out of an instant fear reaction. And then, Reaper had a reaction he didn't expect, and gazed accusingly at the already hardening length in his pants. Mercy followed his line of sight, then tilted the mask a bit to the side as she gazed up at him, shoulders squaring back more. Of course, she had been embarrassed as she had donned his feared garb; but the more she put on, the more powerful Mercy felt. But this? This sent a bolt of aroused strength through the typically submissive healer.

"Strip." Her voice had an altered effect due to the mask, but it was thankfully not as insidious as in his nightmare. A shrill intake of breath was easily audible as he paused only a moment before near-frantically unzipping his hoodie, tossing it aside before ebony jeans met the same fate. Reaper's head dipped down, and Mercy gave pause: when they reignited Reaper had constantly attempted to cover his face, nervous of Mercy finding him repulsive. But time, and the doctor's tender love and touches had finally soothed his troubled mind - well, at least that part of it. But this was different. If he had blood, it would have been a bright blush on his otherwise grey face; he was used to the one being in power, but he didn't hate this. As Mercy realized this, she surged forward onto the bed, the muted tinkling of buckles sounding.

"Too slow," she commented, hooking a shiny sharp claw into the top of his cotton wife beater. Unhurriedly she traced it down his toned chest, his hard abs. Reaper let out a long, low groan. Clicking the stainless claws together - Reaper would have to remember that, what a chilling effect it was - one tip soon traced the top of his boxers, crisp black with ones with white skulls spotting them: a present from his current tormentor. Then the outline of the large bulge that still swelled. Reaper's breath shuddered, and Mercy's hips twitched forward, jingling the various belts. Both gauntlets glinted as she precisely sliced off the boxers - a shame, but she'd buy him another pair. Finally freed, his sizable cock bobbed upward, a bead of pearly precum already oozing lazily from the tip. Mercy chuckled. Wrapping her hand around Reaper's girth, Mercy pumped up and down. Slow, teasing, not enough. The well-worn leather in the palm of the glove felt surprisingly amazing, and he sparsely moaned. The woman who had saved him, damned him and saved him again stopped too soon.

Metal against metal sounded as Dr. Ziegler unbuckled the tight pants, pulling them down just enough and fluidly moving to position herself further up. Reaper made a soft keening noise that he wasn't particularly proud of before it was stopped short by Mercy taking his ruined face as her rightful throne. Stroking rapidly with his long tongue, his hands reared up and dug his fingers into the pale flesh of Angela's round ass. A string of German flowed from the woman atop him, and Reaper felt a surge of encouragement: he stiffly shoved his tongue inside her and rhythmically jerked his chin upward to fuck her properly with it. Mercy yelped, toes curling inside the burdensome boots. It didn't take long for the Swede to lose her composure, her moans becoming higher-pitched as more of her wetness coated his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. Taking a steadying breath, she agilely slid backwards.

"Now," A talon drifted to the base of his dick, and Reaper's eyes blew wide with an intoxicating mix of fear and desire. Mercy carefully drew it up the sensitive underside to the ridge under his head, then circled it. The other gauntlet raked along his chest. 

"Please, Mercy," he choked out at her continued ministrations, and Mercy let loose a loud laugh at that. Moving to position herself over the shining head of his cock, her strong thighs held her aloft.

"Oh, Reaper," razor-edged nails kissed his corpse-like cheek as she caressed it, "I will show you no mercy." With that, her searing heat enveloped him, and the assassin nearly shouted. A string of enthused moans ushered forth from both as she rode him at a break-neck pace; the gnarls on his cock rubbing against every sweet spot in her soaking cunt. His hands gripped onto her hips for dear life, attempting to thrust up in time with Mercy's fast pace. Reaper's efforts and a particularly hard thrust had him bottoming out in her. "Fucking hell!" Mercy cursed, the death's mask rearing back and hood being flung from her blonde head. Somehow their pace impossibly increased, more erratic now. In the moment she swiped down the gauntlet, drawing four unbleeding rakes in one pec, the tiniest bit of wispy smoke eking out. Reaper groaned and sought out her breasts through the layers, petting and grasping nigh-reverently. That was it. Clenching repeatedly, Mercy's orgasm milked Reaper's cock as it sent hot streams of cum inside her, filling his angel who thusly collapsed stop him, much heavier now wearing his clothes. 

Thickly muscled arms encircled Mercy, holding her steadfastly. Reaper whispered his thanks, and she was too tired to return a quip but settled for murmuring contentedly, the good doctor removed the hallowed mask to unflinchingly pepper his still-strong jaw with kisses. Inside all that leather and duckcloth, Mercy was exhausted, her body coated in a thick sheen of sweat. Reaper could feel her tiredness, letting one palm wedge between their two satisfied bodies to gently coax her up into a sitting position. First he helped her out of the coat, then the pants with some difficulty before she collapsed beside him, snoring softly. Reaper chuckled and again held her steadfastly, his bare, disfigured hand gripping her still gauntleted one. Reaper would only have sweet dreams tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
